Thinking of You
by DeathCabForMari
Summary: Clary thought she had her life figured out, but, in the wake of a tragic loss, she faces the harsh reality: She is in love with a man she never thought would be more to her than her best friend. She can't imagine life without him. The worst part? He's gone, forever, and far too soon. ONE-SHOT, not open for continuation. **Death theme warning**


**So, I sort of wrote this one-shot today in the morning. Oops. I literally dreamt it up last night. I awoke in tears, and I was so distraught by this beautiful story, that I felt the need to share it with you all. **

**Thank you so much ****IWriteNaked**** for beta'ing on such short notice. You're my **_**Parabatai,**_** and life is so much brighter because of you. I love being your Izzy and Alec xD**

**RippingButterflyWings**** and ****SpikeyHairGood**** were eager to read this, a shout out as always goes to them for being there, along with ****IWriteNaked****, to hear me rant about my crazy daughter all the time. She's the coolest 6 year old, I swear.**

**Special thanks to my babe ****TiggerJoshy**** for his feedback, it truly helped me make this story monumentally better. I love you! Mosh 4 Life!**

****Disclaimer: The characters belong to Cassandra Clare, the story belongs to me. All rights go to their respective owners.****

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**Thinking of You (acoustic) – Katy Perry**

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Denial.

Some people say it's one of the stages of losing a loved one.

To me, it would always be the only stage. It would be my way of surviving— of not losing my sanity.

You were gone, and I wouldn't ever get to hear your laugh, your long rants of the life we deserved, or how excited you were to continue fighting for what was right.

You were gone, and with you went the love you had for me. The one I rejected because I made myself believe that I didn't feel the same. I convinced my stubborn heart that you would always just be my best friend.

Simon.

Your name alone would forevermore hold the power to unhinge every fiber of my being. I would never be able to hear it without losing myself in the midst of all the walls I'd built. It would take me to a place in my mind where I could still see your eyes, feel your hand on mine, and feel your lips kiss me.

I would never forget the one time you had the courage to show me how you felt. It was the last time I let you. It disarmed me. Made me lose all my senses. I kissed you just as desperately, fervently, and passionately. We were only 17, and I let myself believe it was my hormones.

What was I supposed to say then? To my husband, to my parents, to our friends? I couldn't even look at your family.

I could only hope Jace would understand. Because the Godforsaken truth was, I was so in love with him, but he wouldn't ever take your place. See, it wasn't until I got the news that you had died that I realized it. I couldn't imagine having a life without you in it. It wasn't something I could fathom. You were supposed to be there forever, to help me through all my tragedies.

Rebecca held me by my shoulders and gazed at me with guarded eyes. Eyes that I cannot look at anymore without seeing you.

"It was the protest," she numbly told me. "He was taken by the militants during the chaos and—" she stopped mid-sentence as her feelings overwhelmed her.

I looked up at her and felt my mind go to a place I never knew existed. I lost myself to the overwhelming pain and chose instead to tune it all out.

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"What are you doing babe?"

"Jace, you're home. I'm just cleaning up."

"You haven't stopped cleaning for an entire week. I think the apartment is clean enough, and for God's sake don't bathe the dogs anymore, they can't take it."

"I'm just trying to get rid of all this filth. Besides, it's spring cleaning week. You know I do this every year."

Jace looked at me with blank eyes, his fingers suddenly went up to pinch the bridge of his nose."I'm worried about you," he said, concern laced in his tone.

Suddenly, we both heard the news segment on the tv that had been on in the background.

"_Today marks one week after the tragic protest where dozens of college students were senselessly killed. Several memorials will be held in the weeks to come, tonight our city mayor will be leading one which will be preceded by a candle light vigil. The students lost during this protest have been identified as..."  
_  
Jace was now looking at me warily. We had both sat down to watch the segment. I was shaking my head slowly, because I had convinced myself it was just a bad dream. I sat there waiting for the names, and Jace reached out to grip my hand.

_"Simon Lewis, age 26, a graduate of NYU. Leaves behind his mother, Elaine Lewis, and his sister, Rebecca Lewis..." _

I gasped and ran to the kitchen, frantically opening drawers.

"Clary? What are you doing?"

"Cake," I managed to gasp out the word. My breathing turned to heavy pants as I felt myself crumbling. "I need to make Simon a cake. It's almost his birthday and my pineapple upside-down cake is his favorite. He needs to have it when he comes back," I managed to choke out all those words as tears spilled over my cheeks.

I wasn't looking at Jace, but I knew what was in his eyes. Because it was in the eyes of everyone who looked at me ever since your death. Pity and pain. It was like it hurt too much to look at me, like I was an injured animal on one of those sad commercials about abusive pet owners. I was like a lost child at the market, and everyone who interacted with me was just trying to help me find my home. But my home was gone, lost to the violence this world has to offer.

Jace must have really loved me. He took good care of me, Simon. He looked at me with even more love and dedication then than he did on our wedding day—the one you attended. The one where you gave a speech that spoke of how all you wanted for me was a man who would make me happy, who would be loyal and dedicated. You told everyone that Jace was the perfect man for me, and while everyone clapped in agreement at your words, I could see the pain in your eyes. You knew he would be good to me, but you wished it could be you and me sitting at that table.

He has exceeded your expectations, because all he did that day in our kitchen was let me grieve in my own way. Even when he saw me crumble in that moment. When he watched me scream at the top of my lungs, throw around all our pots and pans, and finally let myself collapse on the floor crying.

That was the moment I really let it process. I was in love with you, maybe even more than you were with me. We could have had something so beautiful, and I let it slip through my ungrateful hands. But I was so afraid to ruin you with all my twisted ways, afraid to destroy you with my kiss, that I selfishly kept you at a distance. I didn't want to risk losing my life partner—because that's what you were.

I never felt good enough for you, Simon. No one was good enough for you— they never would be. You had a purity to your soul that made me question the entire universe. I refused to even try to let myself love you like I wanted to, because I knew I would destroy you.

As Jace held me that night in our bed, as he kissed my chest, and roamed my body with his fingers, I let myself remember for the first time in years what it was like to have you do that.

No one knew it, and they never would, but that time you kissed me when we were 17, was the time we gave ourselves to each other. I lost my virginity to my best friend, and he gave me his. I would never forget the quote you loved so much, the one you told me that night we shared.

"We live in a world where we have to hide to make love, while violence is practiced in broad daylight," you said to me as we sat on the roof of your mom's apartment building, before you leaned in and kissed me.

Was it weird that I relished in the fact that there wasn't a roof over us when we made love that night? I felt so exposed and torn open. Like the galaxies were watching as I came undone, waiting for me to float up and zip through the sky like a shooting star. Like a meteor that was passing through, and leaving in its wake a ripple of pleasure, love, and finally of mourning. Because at some point, it had to end, and wait for the next time I shot by. Except I never did, not with you by my side at least.

What good would come from dwelling on what I could've had with you? It would have been beautiful, that much would always be clear to me. All I had left was to appreciate that someone who loved me would always be at my side to help me mourn the loss of you.

So, as Jace entered me, as he held my face with his hands and kissed me so hard I thought he was trying to glue me back together, I remembered what it was like to have you inside me. I grasped onto that moment and made love to it with all my soul. Because after that night, I would never let myself think of it again.

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**Simon isn't a character I ever thought of writing about, but my subconscious had other plans, I guess. It was crazy, because he was literally a part of my dream. I mourned the loss of him. Dreams sure are insane sometimes. Well, I hope you all enjoyed it, I guess? I tend to prefer stories that don't involve death, but this was begging to be shared. **

**Love and light to you all. Until next time – DeathCabForMari**


End file.
